v e r g e
by Fatal-Love
Summary: /\ akuriku /\ Axel befriends a dead boy who tries to talk to God, but fails and finds love. /multichap//graphic//bl/


**V E R G E**

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chap. o1 :: ritual

**warning:** AkuRiku

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The first time I saw him, was from an alley way. I was in the process of burning my old Biology book—a ritual to mark the first beginnings of a summer, and I stood up curious as I could be. His figure glowed orange, sort of like a textbook omen, under the late sunset and he littered his plot of shitty alleyway with little packages. Perfectly wrapped and stained with splotches of god knows what. I stared for the longest time, until my little bonfire withered and died, completely reduced to a hill of soot at my feet. I kicked it idly and began to approach him, having nothing better to do.

After all, I was sweaty and bored and solitary. I had one friend—who really was a crab apple, so I'd rather not bring him up.

The boy had gone rigid before I was a meter away, and he stayed like that: crouched, diminutive, and dirty against the gutter stained concrete. I curiously stuck my over grown neck past his shoulder and brilliantly asked, "Hey kid, whatcha' up to?"

He said nothing.

I gave him a light poke and he turned back to me, showcasing his bizarre eyes and ghostly hair. I paused and looked past his pretty features to his hands. They were clenched around an impressive hunting knife and the mangled carcass of a cat—a stray one I had seen the other day; was cut open. It was gutted beautifully as blood spilled from its hull onto the alley and the animal's heart sat proudly next to a package of gauze.

_God_ oh _god,_ there was _so_ much blood.

I fought down the urge to vomit and my knees buckled. To my horror, I stumbled down next to him, splashing the redness onto my shoes. I was too sickened to care.

"What the fuck are you doin'?" I struggled to stay calm. C'mon Axel, _breathe. _He said nothing again and rasped louder now, almost nervous. I looked away as he moved to wrap up the remains; afraid I would see something unpleasant roll out from the wide opening. A moment later he brushed past me and took the heart to the little pile of muscles in the almost satanic circle of packages. I just then realized all the little stained prizes were dead cats. I fought my queasiness down.

This kid was seriously creeping me out.

But strangely, I continued to follow this ghoulish boy, oddly interested in his little ritual and in the beautiful way in which his bloodied fingers worked. They reminded me of bones, white perfect and decorated with blunt nails.

The ghost boy sniffed, pulled out a box of matches and casted a kind of frightening look my way. A lit match was worked into my hands, and before I knew it, I was igniting the dead bodies of cats. I crumpled my nose at the smell of alcohol that sprang forth after I lit the textile and watched it aggressively consume the stray's body. I realized he doused the fabric in Bacardi to keep the flame from dying.

Clever—I mused, admiring his creativity. I had replaced my initial horror with fascination as I secretly watched him work, gingerly licking the flame to the bodies and smiling when a burst of fire exploded at contact. A pyromaniac in the making—how heart warming.

We finally met half way and snuffed out the smoldering stubs before we stepped into the middle. The center piece of hearts was no longer slick and cooked nicely to crisps under the intense heat; adding a strangely intoxicating odor to the air. The night hung heavy overhead as the individual fires threw shadows over rusted garage doors. I felt like there were little demons dancing around us, black and adorned with hell wrought crowns. I wanted to dance with them all—to be one of those creatures dancing to the rhythm of the flame.

The boy sat down and bowed his head with his eyes pinched closed, taking a deep breath of the fumes that wafted all around us. He extracted his knife and placed it in the burning organs in a ceremoniously careful manner. The caked substance fell off his browned hands like fall leaves and fractured into slivers. A thin veil of hair to fall over his ears as I watched, stared, studied him like the awkward teen I was.

I too, then plopped down and watched the younger boy—he was maybe, thirteen at the time.

He was completely still as he uttered a silent prayer. A pregnant silence squeezed between us and it soon grew unbearable.

"What is all of this for?" I broke the quiet and stared straight into his eyes when he looked at me in surprise; like he had forgotten I was there. Our stares held for a time and then he glanced up to the sky.

"I'm trying to get God's attention." I felt bewildered and cocked my head. "I need some answers and I wanted him to know that I'd do anything for him; for a reply. I read somewhere that he responded to sacrifices and I felt he deserved a big one." His eyes shone and I felt the tissues of my stomach churn at how twisted the thought was. He had it all wrong, but I didn't have the heart to tell him that burning alley cats wasn't going to get him any where.

I settled for spending the next hour praying with him to a God I barely knew. On one knee with my head bowed as a personal fire, I submitted myself to the Lord. I tried to see it his way but struggled, and failed. I saw no God; I saw no salvation or answers. Just fire and death and the stench of smoldering skin. The cats long since dehydrated to ash and we stood, awkwardly glancing to one another before stepping to leave.

"W-wait, what is your name?"

Weird_. He_ was the one speaking to_ me_ now.

"Axel, you?"

"Riku."

We absorbed each others names, soaking in each syllable as we waved good bye at the same time. I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes gleamed in the street light, eerily and almost ominously so. I was almost convinced he wasn't alive because his eyes looked like twisted ocean jewels. God, he looked like a gorgeous ghost. I wanted to tell him that but I bit my tongue and walked on.

"See you later Riku."

His name scampered off my tongue and came out in a smooth alto noise. I liked his name—a lot, but I kept that to myself too. I walked away but I felt him stare at the back of my head, something unsaid one his tongue.

I fell asleep with him haunting my eyelids that night.

-

I decided I needed to see him again.

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**a/n:** the beginning to a friendship/lovestory/murder case that all started with dead cats. how cute.


End file.
